


Skate to Your Destiny

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: I'll switch between their POV's, I'm Sorry, Ice Skating AU, M/M, Marco's hot and that's that, Multi, No gay panic for Jean, Shingekis on ice, Tagging characters as I know they'll appear?, There will be fluff, This is just an excuse to get the Snk cast in spandex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-01-27 14:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1713788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean Kirstein: Amateur, out of practice skater who wants to get back on the rink.</p><p>Marco Bodt: Skilled figure skater who wants to take his career to the next level, but needs a skating partner.</p><p>Connie and Sahsa: Annoying, but in the end, helpful, matchmakers.</p><p>Eren: That fucking angry German asshole.</p><p>[DISCONTINUED]</p><p>Nothing can possibly go wrong with this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Pretty Skater Boy

_I’m a little rusty_ , Jean thought, gliding across the ice with the satisfying scratch of blades on ice, _but still got the old touch._ He hadn’t been ice skating since his senior year at Trost High, finding himself with a stack of homework almost as tall as he was and exactly zero time for frivolous things such as skating. Or sleeping. Or eating. Anything that wasn’t doing work, really.

The comfortable chill of the rink, which seeped through his ratty red sweatshirt, his fingerless gloves, and even his thick woolen socks, was at the same time familiar and foreign.

The black leather figure skates, custom made a few years ago, still fit Jean perfectly, although they felt stiff and slightly uncomfortable from disuse. Lost in thought, he almost stumbled over a deep groove in the ice, one of many carved in the public ice rink. Shouldn’t he have been able to skate through that? He wondered if the blades were dulled... maybe he could get them sharpened, if he was going to start skating again?

He swerved, expertly weaving through a group of five or six teenage girls, obviously beginners, who were spread out across the entire skating lane and moving at a snail’s pace. The rink wasn’t terribly busy; a couple of young parents were guiding a shuffling toddler across the ice, a couple of teenagers were casually skating, their fingers intertwined tightly. There were only a few people who weren’t wearing the generic, bright blue skates that the rink rented out. One girl, in a skintight black spandex dress-suit-thing, had appropriated the centre of the rink and was doing a few elegant twirls and jumps and just generally taking up space. _I’m a showoff,_ was the unspoken cry from the snobbish, standoffish expression she gave everyone around her. _I should be in the professional rink next door to practice but I want you all to see how much better I am than you._

 

One guy was wearing bright neon green and blue hockey skates, and was moving through the crowd as a blur, narrowly avoiding collisions with less experienced skaters. Even Jean had to call on all of his speed to avoid crashing head first into the guy. _I’m a douchebag!_ Called this guy, as he began skating backwards, laughing to his friends, who were skating behind him (with the obnoxious blue rental skates.) _I’ve got no idea how to be careful about the people around me, and if I crash into you, it’s your fault because you can’t skate!_

And then there was Jean. Jean with his black skates and his cautious smile as he carefully weaved through the groups. He wasn’t sure but he hoped he was exuding the atmosphere, “ _I know what I’m doing but I’m not great._ ” So far, he hadn’t noticeably pissed anyone off, and a few of the teenage girls had been blushing and grinning at him every time he skated by, so he considered Mission Get Back on the Ice Without Being a Douchebag a success.

 

“Hey, did you hear the guy who got first in the county contest is here?” A teenager just in front of Jean asked his girlfriend, who cooed enthusiastically, “Really? Maybe we should go watch him...” _First_ _in the county, huh?_ Jean thought, circling around and stepping gingerly up out of the rink. _I could stand to have a little break._

 

He shuffled along the rubber floor, his blades leaving thin trails of water behind him. The other rink in the building, rented by hockey teams, individual coaches, kids’ teachers and the like, was mostly empty. Jean sat comfortably in the spectators benches, a safe distance away from a couple of other people who had also come to watch the skaters. On one side of the rink, a couple of maybe ten year old girls practiced a frankly ridiculous dance routine while a woman in a bun sternly watched them, occasionally barking out corrections.

 

A black blur swept across Jean’s field of vision, and his attention was instantly caught by the most attractive goddamn skater he had ever seen. He had tanned, freckled skin, and neatly cropped black hair. He was handsome, an easy smile on his lips and his bright, brown eyes were practically sparkling. The man was dressed in all black, a tight black shirt stretching attractively across toned muscles, and loose black pants that showed off a damn nice ass in all the right ways. After he scolded himself with a sharp, _Jean, stop drooling at the pretty skater boy,_ he was awed by just how elegantly the man skated. His arms were hanging loosely at his sides, gliding on one leg while propelling himself with the other and it was textbook perfect skating with something that Jean couldn’t quite place that tied his whole style together.

 

Jean had no trouble believing that this kid was the county champion, or that he could be much more than country champion if he wanted to.

 

He also had no trouble believing that given the opportunity, he could fall, and fall hard for this pretty skater boy.

 

 


	2. Fucking Jaeger...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aww, Marco's blushing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahah I had this chapter done hours ago but couldnt post it cause I was swimming with my friends  
> Speaking of friends, shout out to Maryssa (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE YOU FUCKER) who is not half bad at making SNK puns.  
> Sorry for the wait. I mean its not gonna get any shorter between chapters but still, sorry.

“Hey, Marco!”

 

Marco swiftly halted himself, turning on the ice to face an approaching Sasha with a warm grin. “Sasha! Where’ve you been?” He had barely seen her since they’d won the county level competition for couples, after telling him that she couldn’t be his partner anymore. It had been something they had discussed for a while- they had only really partnered up because they’d gotten along while receiving training from Levi, and even their short mentor had commented that there was virtually no chemistry between the two. Still, he hadn’t thought that he’d be abandoned, left to struggle for a new partner before he could advance onto State level. One week had passed, and he was still partnerless and close to despair.

Sasha jumped onto the ice, gliding into Marco with enough force to send them both spiraling backwards as she wrapped him into a bone-crushing hug. “Just training up my next dance partner,” she grinned as she pulled away, gesturing extravagantly to one Connie Springer, who was practically leaping into the rink. Connie, on land, had all of the grace of a titan in a china shop, but on ice... Well, the little guy had qualified for the Olympic speed skating squad multiple times. “No shit, Connie, you’re actually _dancing_?”

 

“Yup,” Sasha was smirking mischievously, her teasing tone enough to make Marco inaudibly gulp. “Meaning, you can find a...” she wiggled her eyebrows, her nose almost touching Marco’s, “a partner more to your _liking_.”

 

“Sasha!” He laughed shakily, cheeks pink. Sasha thankfully left his personal space, but didn’t stop smirking as she mock-whispered, “Alright, but just so you know, there’s a cute guy on the bench over there who’s been ogling your ass for at least the last five minutes.” Marco spluttered for a few seconds at Sasha’s retreating back, unable to form words, and if he had been blushing like a schoolgirl before, now he was a fucking tomato. Eventually, when he was sure that the red tinge in his cheeks and nose could be blamed on the chill of the ice rink, he turned as casually as possible to look in the direction of Sasha’s teasing glances.

It wasn’t hard to tell who she was talking about, considering that he was the only one on the bench. And yeah, sure, he was sort of cute. The guy had a weird undercut thing going on for him, a mess of sandy hair gradually leading to dark brown around his ears. He seemed gaunt and wiry, lanky even, though his figure was hunched aggressively and his hands were plunged deep into the pockets of a faded, worn red sweatshirt. The guy’s eyebrows were slightly furrowed, eyes narrowed, his sharp features falling into a neutral scowl, and Marco briefly wondered if he had what people called a “natural bitchface.” Oh, and yeah, he was looking right at Marco.

 

Marco felt hands on his shoulders, and Connie said, “Buddy, not to be rude, but don’t be a pussy.” And then, Connie shoved Marco with all of the force that someone as tiny as he was should _not_ have directly towards Grouchy-face, calling over his shoulder, “Fucking seriously, Connie?!”

 

Grouchy-face raised an eyebrow, bitch-face firmly intact, as Marco came skidding to a halt directly in front of him. He shot the guy an apologetic smile along with a small shrug. Marco was saved the trouble of struggling for an awkward greeting, as the guy quickly said, “So you won the county contest, huh? Singles or couples?”

 

“Both. The girl over there, Sasha Braus, was my partner. I’m Marco Bodt.” He held out a hand, which was firmly shaken by a gloved one. “Jean Kirstein. _Was_ your partner?”

 

“Yeah, we didn’t really click...” Marco chuckled, hand scratching nervously at the back of his neck. _This was going to sound so stupid._ “Actually, on that topic... uh, do you figure skate?”

 

“Straightforward, aren’t we?” Jean murmured with just a hint of a smile, and _oh fuck, Marco’s face was never going to be a normal human colour again._ “No! No,” he spluttered, shaking his head violently. “That’s not it I just, I’ve been looking for a partner for a while and the state competition is pretty soon and... fuck! Just humour me, ok?” _Please fall for the puppy dog eyes, nobody can resist the puppy dog eyes... except for Levi. **Please** fall for the puppy dog eyes._

“Fine,” Jean sighed, standing. “But don’t expect anything to come out of this, Freckles. I haven’t even ice skated, let alone done any figure skating, since high school.” Rather than walking a few steps to the gate into the rink, Jean hoisted himself over the barrier and onto the ice beside Marco. “Come on,” Marco urged, gesturing to the area where Sasha and Connie were twirling wildly together, screaming and giggling loudly. “I should probably introduce you to my friends.”

Jean skated silently to his left, hands still in his pockets, and Marco found himself smiling as he watched the other boy. It was plain to see that he hadn’t skated in a while, but he was obviously a natural. His posture was slouched, his face was set once again into a scowl, but he looked fucking _graceful_ in some weird natural way, like he was born on the ice and it was his natural habitat. “You know, where I’m from, it’s rude to stare.”

Despite his cheeks flushing again, (it wasn’t a romantic fluttery thing, it was an awkward Marco thing,) he attempted to keep his cool. “Oh, and where _are_ you from?” Jean replied, “Trost district, still live there, actually.”

 

“No shit, my mentor’s boyfriend lived in Trost for a while,” Marco commented with a grin.

 

“No way, man!” Connie called as they approached. His volume made Jean wince slightly, nose scrunching in distaste. “I didn’t think you’d actually get him on the ice!” Marco sighed, shrugging by way of apology to Jean. “That’s Connie, he’s Sasha’s new partner.” Springles, as Levi had taken to calling them, waved at Jean.

 

“Jean,” he introduced curtly.

 

“You know, Jean...” Sasha began with a smirk. I winced in anticipation of her undoubtedly evil scheme. “Connie said he saw you skating earlier, said you weren’t half bad. But can you do... this?” Without warning, she launched herself backwards, skating for a couple of feet before turning and jumping into the air, landing on one skate with the other foot and her two arms outstretched. Connie clapped and whooped, and Marco nodded with a small smile. Jean looked... unimpressed.

 

“What are you shits clapping about? That was the worst fucking axel I’ve ever seen! Your turn was disgraceful, you barely got your feet off of the ground, and I don’t even want to think about your landing. I’ll have your fucking head, brat.”

 

“A pleasure as always, Levi,” Marco chuckled dryly, looking over to where Levi was gingerly stepping into the rink, eyebrows furrowed and jaw set into a permanent glare that made Jean look like Little Miss fucking Sunshine. Marco then grinned at the mop of brown hair that was standing just behind Levi, waiting to get in. “Oh, and hey-”

 

“ _Fucking Jaeger..._ ” A venomous hiss behind him from Jean startled Marco, and he noted that Eren’s eyes were also narrowed into slits, glaring distastefully at Jean.

  
_Well. Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* I have no idea what Im doing ok, i know next to nothing about figure skating

**Author's Note:**

> Hey ho, this is my first fic, and it's unbeta'd. So, sorry if it sucks? Feedback welcomed (pleaaaaase.)  
> Look, I've got no idea how skates work, or pro figure skating, so there will probably be many (many) links to Youtube videos in upcoming chapters.


End file.
